Hannah's Journey

She turned the engraved silver knob of the room she was to share with Pleasant and found her sister-in-law staggering about the cabin bumping up against the furnishings as the train rocked from side to side, and yet clearly reluctant to touch anything. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut, fingers knitted together as she murmured prayers in the dialect of Swiss-German they always used in private. She was earnestly beseeching God’s mercy and deliverance from this place that was surely the devil’s own workshop.

“Pleasant?” Hannah caught her sister-in-law as the train rounded a curve. Although the woman was three years younger than Hannah’s age of thirty-two, she looked older. Her face was lined with anxiety. “It’s all going to work out,” Hannah assured her in their native tongue as she led her to the upholstered bench that was bolted to the floor in front of the dressing table.

They sat together with their backs to the mirror and the array of bottles and jars that filled the insets on top of the ornately curved dressing table. Hannah kept her arm around Pleasant’s shoulders as they rocked in rhythm to the train’s movement. “I spoke with Mr. Harmon. He’s going to do his best to see that we are more comfortable.”

“So much temptation,” Pleasant muttered, glancing about with wild-eyed worry.

“Not if we refuse to be drawn to it,” Hannah said.

There was a soft knock at the door and Hannah got up to answer it.

“Oh, miss,” a young woman in a starched uniform exclaimed. “I thought you would be at supper and Hans said that I should…” She clutched a large bundle of plain linens to her chest.

“Let me take those,” Hannah urged, reverting to English. She engaged in the brief tug-of-war it took to persuade the woman to release them. “These will do just fine. Please thank Mr. Winters for us and thank you, as well. I’ll get started and while we’re at supper you can finish, all right?”

The maid nodded then bowed her way out of the room, closing the door behind her. Hannah immediately began covering the large full-length mirror with one of the sheets. As if in a trance, Pleasant got up and unfolded another cloth to drape over the dressing table. “I suppose we could use the bench,” she said, speaking German once again and looking to Hannah for approval.

“Absolutely,” Hannah agreed as she covered the seat’s tufted satin with a plain muslin pillow case. “We’ll leave these for the maid,” she decided as she knelt on the sofa and pulled down the upper berth. It was made up with satin linens and a silk coverlet and Hannah suspected the sofa bed was similarly garbed.

To her surprise, Pleasant giggled. “The maid,” she exclaimed with glee.

Hannah saw her point. For two Amish women to be discussing what they could leave for the maid to finish was ludicrous. She started to laugh and soon the two of them were toppled on to the sofa holding their sides as their giggles subsided and then started all over again.

A knock at the door finally sobered them.

“Daughters?”

“Yes, Father,” Pleasant replied as both women sprang to their feet and Hannah smoothed the covers.

“Mr. Winters tells me that supper is served.”

Hannah glanced up at the taller, thinner Pleasant and straightened her sister-in-law’s prayer cap that had slipped sideways when they lay on the bed. Pleasant cupped her cheek and within the look the two women exchanged more tenderness and sisterly concern than either had felt for the other in all the years Hannah had been married to Pleasant’s brother. “Coming,” they answered in unison.

Levi’s idea of a simple supper was a three-course meal as opposed to the five-course meal his staff would normally serve. He surveyed the cold cuts, the potato salad, the dark rye bread sliced into thick wedges waiting on the sideboard. They would begin the meal with barley soup and end it with one of his cook’s delicious key lime pies. It was the last of those he would enjoy for some time, Levi suspected as he turned to see that Hans was preparing to pour a dark lager into tall glasses.

“Our guests do not indulge,” he said.

“But they are of German descent. I thought that this particular lager would…”

Levi shrugged. “Start with water and offer tea or milk.”

Hans hesitated. “For you, as well, sir?”

“Yes.” He turned as he heard the trio coming down the corridor, murmuring to each other in the Swiss-German they’d been raised to speak among their own. He wondered if it would surprise them to realize that he understood every word and decided he would leave them in the dark about that, at least for now. He didn’t want to raise their curiosity regarding his past or how he had come to learn their language. “Welcome,” he said jovially, indicating that Gunther should take one end of the table and then ushering the two women to the banquette built into the car against the windows.

In German, the woman Pleasant—who seemed to be anything but—murmured a comment about the magenta, tufted-velvet cushioning. She took her seat but did so with an expression she might have worn had she been asked to sit on a hot stove. Hannah gave him an apologetic smile and sat next to her sister-in-law.

Within seconds, a steaming bowl of soup had been served at each place and yet the three of them sat staring down at their bowls. Levi snapped open his white linen napkin and tucked it under his chin into the collar of his pristine white shirt. Still, they made no move, so he picked up his spoon.

“Shall we pray?” Gunther stretched out his hand to Pleasant who in turn took Hannah’s hand.

Dumbly, Levi stared down at Hannah’s hand extended palm-up to him and Gunther’s large work-worn palm stretching to cover the extra space from one end of the small dining table to the other. Levi put down his spoon, stretched to meet Gunther’s rough fingers and then placed his palm on top of Hannah’s. Her head was bowed but he saw her eyes shift to focus on their joined hands.

Gunther frowned when he observed that connection but then closed his eyes and the four of them sat in silence with heads bowed for several long moments. In spite of the lengthy time allotted for a simple mealtime grace, Levi couldn’t complain. He was far too busy analyzing the sensation of touching Hannah’s palm. Her skin was smooth and warm and once, when her fingers twitched, he responded automatically by wrapping his fingers around hers. Hannah’s breath quickened but she did not glance his way.

Gunther’s head remained bowed for so long that Levi could no longer see steam rising from the soup. At last, the older man ended the prayer by looking up and reaching for his napkin. Instantly, Hannah slid her fingers from Levi’s. She busied herself unfolding her napkin and placing it across her lap, then waited for her father-in-law to take the first spoonful of soup before dipping her spoon into her bowl.

“My family and I are indebted to you, Mr. Harmon, not only for your assistance in finding my grandson, but also in respecting our ways.”

“Not at all. I should have thought about the rooms I offered and their furnishings.”

There was a period of silence broken only by the clink of sterling soup spoons on china bowls and the rhythmic churning of the train’s wheels on metal tracks.

“How is it you know of our ways?” Gunther asked after a time. “After all, we Amish have not been in Florida for long.”

Levi saw Hannah glance at him and understood by her expression that it was a question she had wondered about as well.

“My company travels all over the Midwest and eastern states of America, sir. That includes Pennsylvania where I believe there is a large established community of Amish?”

“Several of them,” Gunther agreed and seemed satisfied with the response.

“How did you come to reside in Florida, sir?”

Gunther smiled. “My son was something of an adventurer. He and a friend had traveled to Florida during the time of their Rumspringa. That’s the time when…”

“I’m familiar with the tradition,” Levi said. When Hannah gave him a curious glance he added, “Isn’t that the time when parents permit—even encourage—their young people to explore the outside world before making their commitment to your faith?”

“That’s right,” Gunther said.

All three members of the Goodloe family were regarding him with interest, so Levi turned the conversation back to the original topic. “So your son came to Florida and…”

“When he returned, he could talk of nothing else. The weather. The possibility of growing crops year-round. The opportunities.” Gunther shook his head and smiled at the memory. “Even after he and Hannah had married and he had joined my bakery business, he would bring it up from time to time.”

“So you just picked up and moved?” Levi directed this question to Hannah, but it was Gunther who replied.

“As I said, we were in the bakery business and one night there was a fire. We lost everything. A few years earlier his mother had died and I had remarried. My second wife was from another Amish community in another state. They did things differently there and she was having some problems settling in. My son saw it all as God’s sign that we should start over someplace else.”

“Did you buy land then in Sarasota?”

“No. We did what we knew best. My son and I opened a bakery.” Gunther looked a little wistful for a moment and murmured, “It was all seeming to work out until…”

“My husband was killed when the wagon he was driving was struck by a motor vehicle,” Hannah said softly.

“My only boy,” Gunther said, his voice quavering.

Everyone concentrated on finishing their soup, then Hans directed the removal of the soup bowls and the serving of the cold cuts and side dishes. Levi was well aware that neither of the women had contributed to the limited conversation. It was going to be a long supper. He waited until everyone had been served then turned his attention to Hannah. “Tell me about your son,” he said.

Again, the slightest frown of disapproval from the old man, but Hannah appeared not to notice—or perhaps chose to ignore it.